“Do you have a death wish?” There’s no emotion in her question.
“No.”
“Then you’ll train.” Her tone is clipped. Her words matter of fact.
King Malachi plants his hand on my lower back, and my skin prickles. “Greer can be a bit straightforward.”
She doesn’t flinch at his comment. Completely unbothered as her gaze continues to assess me.
King Malachi pulls me past her, and I watch her turn, disappearing into the crowd. “I assure you, she’s quite effective at helping others discover the full potential of their magic.”
“Even if they might not have any at all?”
He chuckles. “You have magic, Elorie, or you would not be here. You just don’t understand it yet.”
His words are borderline kind. And I forget for a moment that I am simply a tool to him. I stare up into his blue eyes and almost believe his interest in me extends beyond what he needs from me. But then I catch sight of Selia, glaring at me from a distance, and I remember where I am—who I’m with.
Her golden-brown hair is brighter in the light of the shining orbs overhead. Her warm cheeks glow. Irritation stirs in her gaze.
King Malachi doesn’t pay her any attention as he continues to lead me through the room until he stops us at a large staff that is levitating at the center. It slowly spins where it floats, showing off the runes carved into the wood. They glow with the strangest shade of red. As if there is iridescent blood pumping between the splinters.
“What is this?” My fingers twitch to reach for the staff, but I know better.
“The Staff of Sarrow. It is the key to the final step in the Rite—the tool that binds our souls.” The king reaches for a goblet on a table beside the staff. “The Rite of Blood consists of three phases. The promise, the blessing, and the bind. First, we must drink from the Chalice of Voilene to set our intentions for entering the Rite.”
Voilene.
The goddess of creation, illumination.
Curiosity.
There are four primary gods that oversee our constellation of realms, but the stories of Voilene are the most interesting. Lorestates that she is the god who gifted the drop of magic that blessed the Fae with their powers. But they also say the unspeakable gods made sure she paid greatly for it.
The king lifts the goblet, showing off the moon carved into the side. “After the promise, we will continue to Tempest for the blessing. Only the priestesses can determine if our souls are prepared to bind with one another. After that, we will complete the Rite beneath the full moon, bound by the Staff of Sarrow.”
He waves a hand to the staff. Its essence vibrates before us.
“This staff was carved from the tree that sits at the heart of Sarrow, hence its name,” the king says.
“I always thought Sarrow was an Archway to the After, not an actual realm with trees or creatures. But that painting… and this staff. What is Sarrow?”
“Sarrow is an in between. An ever-dying star. While there are other paths to the After, Sarrow is the most notable in our constellation, as it offers us a doorway to ensure our souls are not lost on their way.”
“Lost?”
“Eternally.” He nods. “Which is why so many were troubled when the Arch to Sarrow closed after the Collision.”
“It’s closed?”
“It has not stirred in over a century.”
My stomach churns with unease. “If the Arch is closed for us, does that mean Sarrow has shut out souls as well?”
“There is only one way to get the answer to that question.” The king offers a chilling smile.
Death.
I shudder at the thought. While I understood the importance of blessing the dead, I never considered the full extent of what might happen to them if we didn’t.
